The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever Page 17

  A black Maybach waited at the end of the clear port upon Carter’s arrival, and he wasted no time instructing the driver how to get to Polo’s Santa Monica apartment. He wondered why someone who had hustled so large now lived so small, and he vowed to make smart money moves with his dough so that he wouldn’t end up living mediocre after his own retirement.

  As the driver pulled onto Polo’s street, Carter sat up attentively as he surveyed the area. “Spin the block for me,” Carter instructed the driver, who nodded in reply. His paranoia was what kept him free and living. Many niggas had gotten caught slipping by being too relaxed. Carter would rather be safe than sorry. “Park up front. Do not move the car under any circumstances,” Carter said.

  “Yes, sir,” the driver responded. He got out of the car and opened Carter’s door.

  Carter emerged and buttoned his Ferragamo suit jacket before heading to the entrance. The building was nice, luxurious even, and sat across the street from the Santa Monica beach, but still Carter wondered why Polo wasn’t put up in a Beverly Hills estate. Ownership was key in Carter’s book. Why lease a unit when you can own the building?

  He knocked at Polo’s door. It had been half a decade since they had last seen one another. He hoped his father’s right-hand man was well, and he was eager to check in on him. The door opened, and Carter stood face to face with Polo the God a.k.a Uncle Polo, the godfather to all of Carter Diamond’s children, including Carter Jones. Recognition registered in his gaze, but the words that came out of his mouth didn’t match.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Carter stepped back, thrown off guard as he frowned. “It’s me, Carter,” he replied in confusion. “You don’t know who I am?”

  Polo shooed him away from his door. “G’on, young’un. Ain’t nothing for you at my door. It’s a young lady live a few doors down. You got the wrong apartment number, son,” he said.

  Before Carter could get another word out, the door was slammed in his face. Carter stood there for a second, stunned and obviously lost. He turned around and walked hesitantly away from the door. He looked back at the closed door, wondering what the hell that was all about. I’ll come back tomorrow, he thought, hoping that Polo hadn’t gone crazy from baking in the hot L.A. sun.

  Carter checked into one of the swankiest five-star hotels in West Hollywood, reserving the penthouse suite for his stay. After tipping the bellman to deliver his bags, he was escorted by the concierge to the fiftieth floor.

  Italian marble graced the floor, and the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows made Carter feel as if he were the king of the city. All of L.A. was at his feet as he looked out over the nightlife. The concierge left him well appointed with his requested vintage bottle of wine and a steak dinner already prepared and waiting for him to enjoy. He tipped the man generously and then sat down at the large dining table to indulge in his dinner for one.

  He looked at the vacant chair across from him and emptiness filled his chest. His thoughts drifted to Miamor. Her absence was suffocating Carter, and he had never felt more alone than he did in that moment. He should be courting her all over the city, wining and dining, shopping and sightseeing. Instead he was solo and missing life as it passed him by.

  BUZZ!

  The bell to the room rang, and Carter stood, knowing that it was his bags being delivered. He grabbed a twenty dollar bill out of his money clip and headed for the door. He pulled it open.

  “Young Carter.”

  “Hello, Polo,” Carter replied as he embraced him. “It’s good to see you. I thought you had lost your wit for a minute there, old man. What was that all about?” Carter asked in confusion.

  Polo pointed to the steak that could be smelled clear across the room. “Why don’t you order another one of those three hundred dollar steak dinners and let me fill you in?”

  The two men sat over dinner, and Polo cut into his steak. He savored the flavor and said, “Now that’s a steak.”

  Carter chuckled. “How did you know where I was staying?”

  “You’re Carter Diamond’s son. I picked the most expensive hotel in L.A.,” Polo said. “But look, you can’t just show up out here unannounced. I’ve got a lot going on out here—things that you don’t want to get wrapped up in.”

  “Try me,” Carter said, fishing for more details.

  “What I’m about to tell you will probably make me look like a snake, but it’s the only thing keeping me free. After I left Miami, I began cooperating with the Feds against Estes,” Polo admitted.

  Carter put down his knife and fork, and his eyes immediately went to the door.

  “You don’t have to worry about them, Carter. They didn’t follow me here, but they are watching every single person that steps foot to my door. That’s why when you showed up out of the blue I acted like I’d never seen you before,” Polo explained. “The last thing you need are ties to me. That’ll automatically put you under a federal scope.”

  Carter silently kicked himself for walking right into the middle of a federal investigation. He knew that the DEA was the most thorough crime fighter on the planet. They had a war against drugs that had taken down some of the greats in the game. Just by putting his face on their cameras he knew that they would be asking who he was and what he did. He had drawn attention to himself.

  “Are you wired?” Carter asked sternly.

  “What? No, never against you,” Polo assured.

  Carter pulled his pistol off of his hip and placed it on the table. “Then you won’t have a problem standing and unbuttoning your shirt,” Carter said.

  Polo paused briefly, slightly offended that Carter wanted proof, but as a major player in the game, he understood. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing nothing but a slight gut and hairy chest.

  Carter exhaled, relaxing slightly. “I have to take every precaution. I hope you understand,” Carter said.

  “I do, Carter,” Polo responded.

  “Now what the fuck would make you turn into a federal snitch, Polo?” Carter asked with contempt.

  “The muthafucka Estes is a snake. He played the game dirty, young blood. The nigga left me in the middle of the fucking Atlantic in a boat the size of a bathtub. The fucking US Coast Guard pulled me from the water, and guess what they found taped underneath the fucking boat?” Polo paused and shook his head as he rubbed the top of it, clearly stressed from the recollection of events. “Five fucking kilos of cocaine. The nigga set me up. I was going away, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend my golden years behind steel and concrete beating my dick to naked photos. I want shrimp and lobster, naked bitches and good pussy, linen suits and ocean views. So I either had to take those years or turn on the nigga that set me up. Estes robbed me and your father for years, giving us bullshit prices and bad coke. We still built an empire off of that shit, and it burned him up. Wetback, Dominican muthafucka tried to put me under the jail, so I turned on him. I’m the master at the double-cross,” Polo said.

  Carter rubbed his goatee and shook his head. “Damn.” Carter didn’t condone Polo’s method of revenge, but it was his choice. They were grown men, and Polo had made his bed.

  “Anybody associated with that scumbag is going down,” Polo said.

  Carter thought of Monroe. “Money is associated with Estes,” he revealed.

  “What? Monroe is dead,” Polo shot back.

  “Estes staged Monroe’s death to protect him from the Haitians, Polo. He is very much alive, and he’s doing business with Estes,” Carter said as he stood to his feet. He began to pace the room.

  “I had no idea,” Polo said regretfully. “I’d never do anything to destroy The Cartel.”

  “He’s not aligned with The Cartel anymore, Polo. I came here to get a connect from you so that I could take back the streets from Monroe. He wanted out. He wanted to do his own thing,” Carter explained.

  “And now you’re at war with your brother over real estate in Miami,” Polo summarized. “He is your brother, Carter
, your younger brother. You are his keeper. Me and your daddy were like brothers, and I don’t give a fuck what beef we had; I would never bring him harm. You take care of your brothers, Carter.”

  Guilt weighed down Carter’s shoulders, because he had just given Zyir the okay to take care of Monroe.

  “Money is out of control. He tried to have my young’un Zyir murked. He’s murdering our men, burning our trap houses. . . .”

  “He’s your brother. Money and Zyir aren’t fighting over money, drugs, turf.... They’re fighting over you. They both want to be at your right. You’ve got to make them realize that they both are equally valuable to you. You’re the oldest; you can dead the beef,” Polo said, cutting off Carter. “Monroe and your friend Zyir will follow by your example. You have the power to remedy things, but whether you do or not, chances are the war will be over soon. I hate to say this, but Monroe is under scrutiny of the Feds. There is no way that he can make it out of this one, and unless you want to see him spend his life behind bars, you have to warn him.”

  “You should have warned us all, Polo,” Carter answered.

  Polo stood to his feet and placed his fedora hat back on his head.

  “I’m sorry, Carter. I’ve still got some connections in South America and a few over in Asia. These are safe; nobody knows about these,” he said as he wrote down contact information for Carter. “These connects make Estes’s coke look like baby powder.”

  “Is this a setup?” Carter asked, disappointed that someone so thorough had turned informant.

  “No, Carter, this is the real deal, baby boy,” Polo replied. He looked at Carter with sympathetic eyes. “Take care of your brother. Get him out of the country as soon as possible. They have been building this case against Estes for four years. Money doesn’t want to be anywhere near Estes when the other shoe drops.”

  Chapter 22

  “The massacre reminded her of her father’s funeral.”

  —Unknown

  Leena sat at the vanity mirror and Breeze stood directly behind her, admiring her beauty.

  “You are beautiful,” Breeze said as she looked at Leena, who was dolled up and looking glamorous. It was the day of Leena and Monroe’s wedding. The sun shone beautifully and was the making of a fairytale day for Leena. Breeze stroke her hair and smiled at her, giving her approval.

  “Are you ready for this big step?” Breeze asked as genuine joy was in her heart for her brother and his soon-to-be wife.

  “Yes. I am,” Leena said and smiled at Breeze. Just as the words came out of her mouth, they were interrupted. Little Monroe came running into the room with his tuxedo on, looking more like his father than ever. Breeze grabbed him up playfully and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Where you think you going, li’l man?” she asked as she beamed from ear to ear. He playfully laughed, and she put him back down and began to fix his bowtie. “You look so handsome, Mr. Diamond,” she added. When she looked at little Monroe, she not only saw the resemblance with big Monroe; she saw all of the three men she lost: her father, Mecca, and Monroe. The realization that her whole family had crumbled hit her. She felt the tears begin to build in her eyes, thinking about what the Diamond family had endured.

  The sound of a car horn blew, and all of their attention immediately went to the window and snapped Breeze out of her sad thoughts.

  Breeze looked out of the window and saw that the car service had arrived. “Okay, it’s time to go,” Breeze said as she looked at Leena. Leena took a nervous, deep breath and returned the smile.

  “I’m ready,” she said. With that, they left to head to the wedding.

  A tall, well-built driver with a suit and shades waited by the car, the back door open for them. Breeze held the back of Leena’s dress to prevent it from dragging on the ground, and Leena had little Monroe in her arms as they made their way to the car. They got into the SUV and headed to the site of the big wedding.

  Monroe fixed his bowtie in the mirror as his goons stood around him. His black-on-black tuxedo was tailor fit, and it flawlessly hung on his shoulders. He looked sharp, resembling a black James Bond, but even more debonair.

  Monroe looked around, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was around a whole bunch of niggas who were not family. He knew they were all there because they were working for him. None of them were there on the strength of love for him. It was his wedding day, and he was surrounded by shooters rather than his brothers.

  “You ready, big homie?” one of the Opa-locka goons asked.

  “Yeah, just ready to get this over with,” he said as he checked his cufflinks. Just as he was doing so, Estes walked in. Monroe looked at his crew and gave them a nod, signaling them to leave the room. Almost instantly they filed out of the room, each of them greeting Estes on their way out, out of respect.

  “Grandson, today is your big day,” Estes said as he walked up to Monroe and straightened up his shirt and his bowtie perfectly.

  “Yeah, I can’t lie. I’m kind of nervous,” Monroe said, being truthful with his grandfather.

  Estes chuckled as he rested his hand on Monroe’s shoulder to provide his support. “You know what? Years ago, your father said the same thing on the day that he married my daughter. Don’t be nervous, son. You are doing the right thing by your family and stepping up to the plate as a man—an honorable man. I just wish your mother and father were here to see you today. They would have been so proud of you today,” Estes lectured as he released a rare smile.

  “I know that they would have,” Monroe said as he returned the smile. “I love you, Grandfather,” Monroe said. The two men embraced, and Monroe heard the music begin playing to serenade the few guests who attended the wedding. “I guess that’s my cue,” Monroe said as he looked back toward the door.

  “Let’s go,” Estes said as he put his arm around Monroe.

  They both headed to the front of the ceremony where the priest was waiting. Abruptly, Estes went to the back, having to take a leak before the ceremony started.

  “Wait. Isn’t the wedding that way?” Leena asked as she pointed at the southbound interstate sign.

  “Yeah, you right,” Breeze said as she looked out the window, noticing that they were going the wrong way. “Excuse me, sir. You are going the wrong way. We need to be going south,” Breeze said as she yelled to the front.

  It seemed as if the driver didn’t hear her, because he didn’t flinch or respond. He just acted as if she wasn’t there.

  “Excuse me!” Breeze said, and rang her voice a level higher. The response was just the same . . . nothing. At this point, they knew something was wrong.

  “Pull this car over right now!’ Breeze yelled as she looked on in disbelief.

  The driver finally acknowledged Breeze and looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Look, ma’am, I can’t do that,” he said with a respectful tone.

  “What the hell you mean, you can’t?” Leena chimed in as she was trying to figure out what was going on.

  “The man who hired me gave me specific instructions. He said drive as far from the wedding as possible. Take it up with him,” the driver said, trying to get the women off of his back.

  Zyir made the driving arrangements. He had a plan, and to execute it he needed Breeze out of harm’s way.

  “What? My wedding starts in thirty minutes! You need to turn your ass around and get me there!” Leena yelled as she began to burn from the inside out.

  The driver was following orders, but with the two women in his ear nagging him, he knew that it was smart to take them where they requested. He turned around and headed to the wedding site. Little did they know, they were walking straight into a bullet-filled melee.

  The wedding setup was beautiful and elegant. It was outside, and everything was draped in white. A live band serenaded the guests, and slow jazz filled the air as a crooner began to zat flawlessly.

  Zyir’s goons were scattered throughout the crowd, including Fly Boogie, who was trying to stay low key in the back r
ow. He had a Tech tucked inside of his tuxedo jacket. His black shades did little to hide his identity, but at that point he didn’t care. He was just ready to get the party started. On top of the people in the audience, Zyir had shooters pretending to be waiters.

  Little did Monroe know, he had walked into a big booby trap. Monroe walked up to the front of the crowd and stood next to the preacher, who held a Bible in his left hand. The wedding was scheduled to start in five minutes. Everyone was just waiting on the bride to show up . . . but Zyir had a different plan for that particular day.

  Zyir also sat in the back, hoping not to get noticed before he gave the signal for hell to break loose. He wanted Monroe and his crew dead. Zyir had just put a major chess move on Monroe, and with Carter’s blessing it was about to go down.

  Zyir looked across the room and nodded at Fly Boogie. That was all Fly Boogie needed to let the pandemonium begin. He stood up and whipped out the Tech that he had concealed. He instantly pointed to the whole front row and let it off, hitting four of Monroe’s goons with one sweep, Fly Boogie was getting busy.

  Just as planned, Zyir’s other shooters pulled out their guns and began hitting anybody who didn’t come in with them. The sounds of thundering blast and bullets whizzing filled the air, and the place went into a complete frenzy.

  Monroe ducked down and immediately looked for Estes. However, it was pointless, because Zyir had locked him in the restroom, not wanting to bring any more pain to Breeze’s heart. He opted not to kill the grandfather, but everyone else was fair game. He came there on that day for blood, and he was not taking any shorts.

  Zyir immediately began to let off shots at Monroe, trying to take his head off. Monroe, never slipping, reached and grabbed the small-caliber gun from the inside pocket of his tux and began to bust back as he took cover.